


ON THE PROPER USE OF

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Dominant/Submissive, F/M, M/F, Original Character - Freeform, electrical usage, fan character, handcuffs and spreader bar, hitting on a hard limit, tactile play, tendril wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Prowl teaches DC the proper use of handcuffs through hands on instruction.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Decepticonsensual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/gifts).



> I kidnapped DC; this is the result of when I hope I allowed to do so.

Armor slicked in submission and standing in her usual corner, DC watches the smaller mech’s optics wander over her frame in keen appraisal.  The small upward tick of a mouth sets her spark to start fluttering.  Anticipation and winning approval from her supreme was why she kept coming back.  Watching the metal catch the light as it swung from the end of his digit made her still any unnecessary vents.  The palm of one hand smooths against a thigh to release a rising need to move.

‘Oh yes that tilt of your helm is very familiar, my supreme, you are very pleased.’  DC’s optics darken in hue.  She had known that asking Prowl straight out to show her how to use this new tool would please him.  She shifts minutely as his optics travel her frame again.

Prowl leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  DC might tower over him, but he knew he was in complete command of his pet Decepticon.  He flicks a glance at the handcuffs dangling from his digit.  The smile that slinks over his face is slow and filled with a promising menace.  He knows she watches carefully for any indication of his displeasure with her that would end the session.  And while he would on very rare occasions use this as a punishment for disobedience, it was only used sparingly and when heavily warranted.  Still he knew DC dreaded a premature end to a session, especially when they hadn’t even begun.

“So, I am to believe you need instruction on how to use these properly.  Is that correct, sweetling?”

“Yes, supreme.”

Prowl places the cuff on his lap as he reclines; digits brush his lips as he beckons the shuttle over.  He watches the purposeful straightening of shoulders and settling of armor plates as she moves forward to kneel before him.  The digits touching his lips reach out, palm up and open waiting.

DC settles on her heels.  She reaches to touch Prowl’s hand.  Her own digits are heav against his making her expansive wings flick, the readings feeding to her processor.  She retracts her battle mask and watches her supreme for her next command.

“You have learned so very well since we began, sweetling.”  A fond smile touches usually neutral optics.  They darken to an indigo hue.  Prowl leans forward to rest his helm crest against DC’s. “I am greatly pleased.”

His words of praise resound and echo within her spark, feeling like a digit had dipped into its core structure to stroke it.  She lowers her optics and bites her lip before nodding once.  “Your pleasure is my pleasure, supreme.”

“And your pleasure is mine.”  Prowl nods.  “Your conditions, my sweetling?”

DC steadies her vocalizer.  “The handcuffs and the spreader bar.  I wish to learn the proper use of these tools, supreme.”  He hand slides forward so her digits can ghost over Prowl’s wrist.  “The use of the electric tendril wand is also requested.  A request for full visual clarity so the proper use of the tools can be observed is submitted as well.”  Red optics shutter and cycle open again.  A smile touches DC’s lips when she looks at her supreme with fondness.  “Qan is the designated safe words.  And,” she produces a small rubber ball she had gotten from Skyfire, “this is the safe signal object to be dropped indicating a halting to the play session in the event vocalizations become hindered.”

Prowl listens to his DC’s terms and looks over the handcuffs carefully.  “Conditions understood, sweetling.”

“Supreme, do you need to request anything in addition to the usual?”

“No additional conditions are requested at this time.”

Prowl withdraws his hand from under DC’s probing digits.  His keen optics study her as she rises and waits for his que.  He follows soon after.  Sensor panels held rigid as he walks to the padded floor on the opposite side of the room.  He does not look behind him to see if his sweetling will kneel and ready herself on the mat, he does not even need to keep his audios tuned to the sound of her.  He know she will obey and will obey well.  He pauses to chuckle internally as he looks for the requested implements.  Primus certainly had a dark sense of ironic humor.  That those who listened to him and obeyed him best were the ones who wore a Decepticon badge.  He makes a note to introduce DV to his Constructicon toys.  It would be interesting to see if they truly got along.

DC settles herself comfortably on the mat.  She knew the positioning requirements be spark.  Her hands wait demurely on her knees as she relaxes her armor and wings.  Visual tension in the frame and any emotional unease sensed in the electromagnetic field would bring a stop to the session immediately. Not that Prowl was displeased by such things, but they caused him to become unsettled and tight with worry for his sweetling, taking away the joy and relaxation the session should bring.  To get Prowl settled again would take time, and both of them had other duties to see to so time was a scratched out commodity for these sessions.  Something Prowl rarely indulged in unless approached by his submissive.  Though for DC, a lesser officer in the Decepticon faction, Soundwave could be convinced to give her the needed time away.

She bents warmly at the thought of the carrier mech.  She, as with her fellow Decepticons, was unsettled by this peace accord with the Autobots and now the Neutral faction.  However, it afforded them the ability to make remarkable connections like she and Prowl or Prowl and the Constructicons.

‘Perhaps I should speak to supreme on their behalf.’  DC lets herself smile warmly.  She cycles her optics to focus on the way Prowl’s sensor panels flick as he went through his thought process.

Prowl turns back to DC and stands perfectly still.  Even kneeling she was close to his height.  It was liberating to have such a powerful Cybertronian kneeling before him and submitting to his desires.  And to know that they received liberation and pleasure in return for submitting...it was the icing on the cake as the humans would say.  Prowl chuckles because, despite what Jazz and the other Earth team Autobots thought, he had learned the turn of their phrases.

A large vent of air and the flutter of wings draws Prowl’s full attention back to DC kneeling behind him.  He turns and meanders over to her, smiling just a little before stopping at a table mat to the mat.  He places all of the tools down.  Orwl steps onto the mat.  From here on out, the session had formally begun and only the safe word or object could stop the play outside of a command given by Prowl.

Prowl stands before his sweetling and brushes digit tips over her helm.  She leans into the caress with a pleased rumble.  “Supreme,” DC mumbles but restrains herself from moving forward to press her audio to his belly.

He slides his digits under her chin guard.  The white of them in stark contrast to her dark purple plating.  Prowl tilts DC’s helm back, and he leans down to press a cherishing kiss to her helm.  “I have you, my sweetling.”

Complete surrender of frame and processor chase those calm sure words, and DC lets any remaining tension leave her form.  She is ready to allow her suprem to fracture her then mold her back together.  She dips her wings and waits.

Prowl strokes his thumb along her chin before turning back to the table he had left the tools for tonight on.  He taps his digits over the metal of the handcuffs which given how advanced their technology was, were of a primitive nature.  They were merely bands of metal secured by strong links.  They had no stasis output field or even magnetic disruption devices of any kind.  Prowl smiles at his reflection in the shiny metal.  A primitive tool yer perhaps but very effective in getting the job done that it was required to do.

Prowl lifts the hand cuffs and turns back to DC.  “You’ve gone with quiet a simplistic model, sweetling.”  He approaches her slowly while visually examining the handcuffs in full view of her.  “But that does not mean they should be tossed aside and passed over.”  He lifts one of the slides open.  A clicking shuff fills the room as Prowl looks over the locking mechanism.  “Clasps your hands behind your back.”  Prowl circles around DC.  “Under your wings,” he adds as DC shifts herself slightly forward to comply.

He places his free hand over one of her wrists, his grip firm.  “When the handcuffs are placed upon a subject, they act like a confinement to the subject.  And while they have many purposes, the main purpose is to hold the subject and make it difficult for the subject to move or even defend themselves.”  Prowl smirks as he watches DC’s wings shiver.  He brings the handcuffs down to hover over her wrists.  He presses his lips to her audio.  “So once you wear these,” he speaks in a hushed tone and snaps on one brace to her wrist.  The slow clicks of it drawing tighter elicit a fractional flick of large wings.  “I can do whatever I want to you.”  Prowl places a small kiss on her audio before drawing away to click on the other brace.  He tugs the connecting chain sharply, very pleased when DC’s large frame arches back to the force of it.

Prowl stands and calmly walks back to the table.  He watches DC from the side of his optic.  She was testing the new tool’s strength subtlety.  The small flutter of her wings speaking volumes to how very pleased she is with the unrelenting strength that meets her tests.  Of course given enough force the chain connecting the braces would snap, but Prowl knows that DC would not snap the tool.  She was merely reinforcing the sensation that she was confined.

Prowl turns back to the tools on the table and picks up the large spreader bar.  He lowers his sensor panels and raises them with an audible snap, drawing DC’s optis to him,  He turns around with the spreader bar in hand. He focuses his gaze on the bar as he draws a hand over its surface.  He smiles slowly as he walks back over his sweetling.

“Stand.”

Knowing she will have some difficulty standing on her own due to her bound hands, Prowl keeps a careful optic on her.  He watches as she shifts her large frame carefully so that she rocks forward on her knees.  The tips of her peds dig into the mat, but she is able to leverage herself up.  Prowl graces her with a pleased expression as she stands with no assistance from him.  He takes two steps forward to stand inside her shadow.  For a moment Prowl shutters his optics and lets the heat from DC’s frame wash over him.  It is comforting and rather appealing.

‘Mm perhaps I should reschedule the rest of my meetings for this evening.’

Prowl lifts one hand to lay it along the broad expanse of D’s chest, stroking over the warm metal.  He thinks of the last time he had been able to indulge in such a luxury as laying across her frame, basking in the warmth beneath him with her arms surrounding him.

“Supreme?”

Prowl snaps back to the present and resents his vocalizer.  He looks up to see DC smiling wanly at him which causes him to unconsciously fluff his armor in response to being caught out daydreaming.  Unlike Jazz, Prowl knew DC would not tell others, but the amused light in her optics threw him off his stride a bit because he knew she was squeaking on how cute the habit was inside that processor of hers.  Sometimes having a larger framed lover could be absolutely wonderful; while at other times being seen as utterly adorable for being on the small side could be frustrating.  Prowl sighs when DC beams at him with that particular smile she had when she found something he did adorable.

‘I am not some infant feline creature,’ he assured himself and frowned, letting a small amount of displeasure spill into his electromagnetic field.

He knew the moment she understood this unspoken command to check her behavior when she bowed her helm and lowered her wings as much as she could.  Though there was a lingering warm amusement echoing in her field.  Prowl merely sighs and kneels in front of her.

“We’ve used the spreader before, DC,” he intones using her real name as a small punishment instead of calling her his sweetling like she liked during these scenes.  “The use is the same here.”

He fits it between her spread legs at the knees. This particular implement put out a small stasis field as it had electric braces that looped about the knees.  Prowl taps a hidden button and the electrics buzz to life with a low hum and a green color.

“They will keep our legs wide.”  Prowl runs his digits along the inside of her thighs, enjoying the way the armor plates shivered and shook.  While e did not think that there would be anything particularly sexual about today’s session, he liked to keep his sweetling on her ped tips.  He brushes his digits over the outer edge of her pelvic array.  He soft groan is telling for how his stroking affected her.  “But for now they will just act as a way to confine your movements,” he finishes with a firm pat to her array as he stands.

He steps back and looks over DC with a wry smile.  Prowl tips his chin down.  A subtle command for her to kneel again.  His optics study her as she does so with a lot more grace than others give her credit for and considering how her limbs are confined, it was rather impressive to watch her move.

Prowl reaches forward again and lifts her chin.  He studies her optics.  The way they shine and alight on him, making him the entire focus of her being.  Prowl graces her with a genuine smile.

“So the handcuffs are links about the wrists,” his voice takes on a calm tone as he begins the instruction in earnest.  “The arms can be in front of the subject or behind them depending on the level of restricted movement desired.  They also come in a variety of styles.”  He turns away from her and begins to circle with a single digit raised, one hand going behind his back.  “The chains linking the braces also vary depending on the need and such.”

His sensor panels begin to tick in a relaxed, happy rhythm as he got into the lecture.  “If the handcuffs were going to be used for law enforcement especially on one of our kind, they would need to have a stasis field to be truly effective.  A field that varied in range of strength would also be necessary.”

He stops in front of her again with a wry, knowing smile on his face.  “However, given that we are no longer enemies, stasis cuffs are rather unnecessary for our play.”  He taps the raised digit to his chin.  “I could even use a length of chain to connect the handcuffs to the spreader bar.  You would look rather fetching arched back like that for me, sweetling.”  He lingers over his name for her.

DC shifts from knee to knee, subtly wishing she could press her thighs together to release the rising charge Prowl had evoked in her earlier.  “So,” she resets her vocalizer, but her vocal pattern is still rather thick.  “So the goal of the handcuffs is to restrict the movement of the one who wears them?”  Her spark flutters when Prowl’s smile deepens.  “Could...could they be used to secure the subject to a stationary object?”

“A chair?”

“I suppose yes-”

“A bed?”

Her wings snap up and jiggle with tension at the dip in his vocal pattern.  The word bed sounding like a lewd suggestion.  “Yes,” she is able to murmur.  Had she been of organic origin she knew she would be perspiring.  As it was, the heat in her core had spike, already causing beads of condensation to form against her protoform in response to the cooler air around her.

Prowl strokes her chin before tapping it playfully.  He turns toward the table where the tendril wand rests.  “Do you have any other questions?”

He watches as she shakes her helm and notes how keen her optics rest on the tool he now holds.  He lifts device and touches it to his lips.  His glossa snaking out to like an unpowered tentacle-tendril.  He stalks slowly toward her.

“If memory serves, you do rather love this toy playing along the surface of your wings, and,” he chuckles, “inside your valve.  Such a pretty thing you are, sweetling.  Would you like me to ask Sunstreaker to come in and paint you so that we both have a picture of how beautiful you are?”  Affection coats his vocals now as DC dips her helm in shyness, her engine tumbling in response to his affection.  Prowl circles about forward to place her upper body on the mat.

Prowl pets a wing.  While a flyer’s wings were not overly sensitive as some species have assumed over the millennia with transformers’ kibble.  But as with all parts of their frame, electricity play along metal could evoke a response.

Prowl pauses.  “Do you remember when we first used this tool, sweetling?”

He activates the device.  Multi-facet colors chase each other around in gentle sparks and snaps.  The tendrils begin to dance with a slight vibration.  While it is not the full power of the device, he knows that this level will be far more effective on DC then striking her with the fullness of the power.  He raises an optical ridge and looks at her.

There is an aggravated huff, but she turns her helm to look at him.  “Yes, my supreme.  You were worried about the wand because it had been used on you before so you were hesitant to use it.”  DC’s optics soften in hue.  “But you saw my curiosity when I asked you, and you consented to at least try it.”  DC’s spark flutters when she see him smile.

“Yes.  Our limits can flex and change.”  Prowl lowers the tendril wand and lets its weaving arms snake over the surface of DC’s wings.

He keeps his movements slow and in a pattern, teasing first one section of a wing then moving it to the other wing in the same expanse.  He did not let the tendrils linger too long.  They stayed just long enough to cause a pleasant tingle along the metal.  Prowl knew from his talks with DC post-session that this routine created a tickling itch, especially on her wings.  He chuckles when he notices a slight tick begin.  It was subtle enough that an untrained optic would miss it.  He lifts the tool away from DC’s wing.  His optics focusing on a wing joint.

He tightens his grip on the handle which causes the weaving tendrils to stiffen and still their vibrations.  He maneuvers the wand so the tip of it is aimed at a joint.  Prowl brings it down on the joint, focusing the slight spark of the electricity into the small area.

DC emits a low grating sound from her vocalizer.  The sudden sting in high contrast to the earlier tingling sensation along the planes of her wings  She strains at the handcuffs when Prowl repeats the process with another wing joint.  Her frame trembles in anticipation of another light jolt to a sensitive joint.  She places her forehelm against the mat.  Wanting nothing more than to continue on with the session, DC eases the tension in her frame as much as she is able with the bindings.

Prowl chuckles.  “Good, my sweetling.  You’re doing rather well.  But remember those handcuffs are not like the stasis cuffs, and they could snap.”

Prowl loosens his grip on the tool the the tendrils begin to dance again.  As he applies them to the plane of the wing, he drags them slowly over the surface and across DC’s back.  He watches as she arches into the weaving points tickling around her frame.  He repeats the sliding motion with the other wing before moving it back to her back.  He lifts it and brings it down lightly a few times, drawing several growling moans from DC.

“You just tested the handcuffs,” Prowl observes while lifting the wand and bring it down lightly on the middle of DC’s back.  “How do you think they would fair, sweetling, if I was to increase the power output against your joints?”  He listens to her systems groan.  The light smack not enough to give her what she was craving.  He chuckles at her efforts to reset her vocalizer to be able to give him an answer.

“You don’t have to answer every query I make, sweetling.”  His optics stray to the ball in her hand.  He hums and returns the tendril wand to the expanse of her wings, letting it dance and weave against the metal in its gentle vibrating dance while dragging it towards her spine.  As he does this, Prowl’s optics wonder over the lines of her frame looking for any sign she was experiencing true distress and needed to stop.  He shifts and lets a large gust of air flow from his vents.  

It was always a delicate balance playing with this particular tool.  He knew what could be done with it wielded by a cruel hand, but he also understood that DC enjoyed the way he handled the device on her frame.  He lowers his helm and focuses on the ball clutched in the cage of her digits, slightly assured that she was indeed experiencing pleasure from his ministrations and not pain.

He lifts the wand completely from her frame and lays a hand on her back, running it along the metal there.  He needed to pause for a moment.  He watches as she comes down from the sensations.

“Sweetling,” he whispers.  There is a hint of possession in his tone.  He leans forward to place a kiss at the base of her neck.

Prowl tightens his grip on the wand again, also flicking the power up by a few degrees.  His spark turns in its chamber, but he steadies it by bringing up a log of the last time they had done something similar to what he knew DC might want next.  Her wings flick and stutter.  He smiles wanly.  She had heard and processed the louder electrical hum.  He lowers the wand and runs it over the air close to her frame but does not touch it.

“Supreme,” DC begs and tries not to move so the device can touch her.  She licks her lips, condensation collecting on her frame from the earlier heat and play.  She shivers as if she was cold the moment before Prowl touches the wand to the metal of her shoulder.  Her vocalizer fritzing out on the cry.  Not of pain the device’s voltage far too low for any pain, but from a zing of relief and pleasure that spikes from the core of her spark.

Prowl applies more of the tendril wand to her metal frame.  She pulls at the handcuffs in earnest now as she arches under his ministrations.  He rumbles his engine in a sharp, deep growl, a warning, as he runs the wand down her back until he comes to her bound wrists.

“Sweetling,” Prowl's Voice calm with command, “don’t move.”

He smacks the handcuffs hard enough that the jolt carries some electrical currents.  He hears DC moan, but she remains still.  “Open your hand,” his voice a deeper tone with the command as se moves without thinking to obey.

He taps the wand on the palm of a hand.  Though there is a tonal shift in her groaning, she shows no signs of calling for a stop or dropping the ball.  Prowl vents heavily and strikes the metal of the handcuffs again before drawing the wand to the curve of her aft.

Prowl pauses there, running the wand over the air a good micrometer above her plating.  “Check in,” he husks.

DC whines but levers herself upright enough to turn to look at Prowl.  Though her processor is still in a fog of sensations of pleasure, she takes measure of her state.  “Supreme, I-”

She focused on Prowl.  The way his sensor panels are almost on his shoulders, the way his entire frame was outwardly taut, the way his lips hand drawn into a thin line...She drops the ball in her hand.  The tightness slowly leaving Prowl’s frame.  The tendril wand is powered down and subspaced.

“Sweetling, report status.”  Prowl becomes hyper focused on DC.

“Functional, awaiting release of confinement.”

She notices the way he has gone into automatic mode despite the tension leaving his frame.  This was not a good thing for him.  He yanks on the handcuffs and easily shatters them.  He kneels to undo the spreader bar.  He stands and walks off the mat, withdrawing from the play area without any of the usual words to end the session.

DC makes a worried noise and flutters her large wings in agitation.  She knew something had unsettled him and goes to Prowl.  She is quick to kneel behind him when he draws ramrod straight at the sensation of having someone at his back.

“DC...sweetling...I…”

She watches as he purposefully slows his vents, his frame shivering.  “Supreme,” she keeps her vocals soft. She stretches up a hand and smiles when Prowl rests his digits on it.  ‘Good he is here with me,’ she thinks as she rests her helm against his hip.

Being the dominant in such a relationship that they possessed meant a need for a certain level of structure and control.  A role which Prowl was often able to fill without issue, meaning DC could let herself go and rest on someone else’s strength completely.

She leans back away from his hip and closes her hand around his, drawing him down and back.  He sits in her lap as she wraps him in her frame.  Her large engine purring for her supreme.  Prowl’s frame unwinds slowly and goes lax after awhile.  He lifts a hand to smooth over her helm like he knows she likes after their sessions.

“Sweetling, I must apologize.  I had not thought that this would bring p a bad flux.”

DC leans her helm forward to rest her chin on top of Prowl’s.  “You tell me that limits can shift and bend, but that there are those that cannot.”  She holds out a hand.  “Supreme, may I have the tendril wand?”

A brief flicker of agitation rises in Prowl before he yields to DC’s request.  He is pulled firmly against her chest that vibrates with a rumble.  He watches as she subspaces the tool then wraps him in both arms again.

“Supreme?”

“Mm,” he hums.  Comfort taking hold of him.

“May I dispose of this tool?”

Prowl goes still, considering.  He was never one to back down when challenged, especially on a mental and psychological level. But perhaps this time, it was wiser to accept a need for a limit.  “Yes, sweetling.”

Prowl shifts in her lap enough to take DC’s face in his hands, running his digits over the planes of it.  “We still have time to do something else if you wish, my sweetling.”

DC shifts him on her lap and goes back to cuddling him.  “Can we stay like this for now,” she asks innocently.

Prowl huffs and laughs.  “Very well, sweetling, very well.”


End file.
